«I do trust you, sir.» ( — as faras I could throw a fit!) «And we are ready to negotiate. But I use “negotiate” in its original sense, not in this new-fangled meaning of “appeasement”. However, we will be reasonable. But we can't start talks at once; we're shy one factor and must wait. How long, I don't know.»
«What do you mean?»
«We expect the administration to be represented by whatever delegation you choose — and we have the same privilege.»
«Surely. But let's keep it small. I shall handle this myself, with an assistant or two. The Solicitor General… our experts in space law. To transact business requires a small group — the smaller the better.»
«Most certainly. Our group will be small. Smith — myself — I'll bring a Fair Witness — »
«Oh, come now!»
«A Witness does not hamper. We'll have one or two others — but we lack one man. I have instructions that a fellow named Ben Caxton must be present… and I can't find the beggar.»
Jubal, having spent hours of maneuvering in order to toss in this one remark, waited. Douglas stared. «“Ben Caxton”? Surely you don't mean that cheap winchell?»
«The Caxton I refer to has a column with one of the syndicates.»
«Out of the question!»
Harshaw shook his head. «Then that's all, Mr. Secretary. My instructions give me no leeway. I'm sorry to have wasted your time. I beg to be excused.» He reached out as if to switch off. «Hold it!»
«Hold it!»
«Sir?»
«I'm not through speaking to you!»
«I beg the Secretary-General's pardon. We will wait until he excuses us.»
«Yes, yes, never mind. Doctor, do you read the tripe that comes out of this Capitol labeled news?»
«Good Heavens, no!»
«I wish I didn't have to. It's preposterous to talk about having journalists present. We'll see them after everything is settled. But even if we were to admit them, Caxton would not be one. The man is poisonous… a keyhole sniffer of the worst sort.»
«Mr. Secretary, we have no objection to publicity. In fact, we insist on it.»
«Ridiculous!»
«Possibly. But I serve my client as I think best. If we reach agreement affecting the Man from Mars and the planet which is his home, I want every person on this planet to know how it was done and what was agreed. Contrariwise, if we fail, people must hear how the talks broke down. There will be no star chamber, Mr. Secretary.»
«Damn it, I wasn't speaking of a star chamber and you know it! I mean quiet, orderly talks without elbows jostled!»
«Then let the press in, sir, through cameras and microphones… but with elbows outside. Which reminds me — we will be interviewed, my client and I, over the networks later today — and I shall announce that we want public talks.»
«What? You mustn't give out interviews now — why, that's contrary to the whole spirit of this discussion.»
«I can't see that it is. Are you suggesting that a citizen must have your permission to speak to the press?»
«No, of course not, but — »
«I'm afraid it's too late. Arrangements have been made and the only way you could stop it would be by sending more carloads of thugs. My reason for mentioning it is that you might wish to give out a news release — in advance — telling the public that the Man from Mars has returned and is vacationing in the Poconos. So as to avoid any appearance that the government was taken by surprise. You follow me?»
«I follow you.» The Secretary General stared at Harshaw. «Please wait.» He left the screen.
Harshaw motioned Larry to him while his other hand covered the sound pickup. «Look, son,» he whispered, «with that transceiver out I'm bluffing on a busted flush. I don't know whether he left to issue that release… or has gone to set the dogs on us again. You high-tail out, get Tom Mackenzie on another phone, tell him that if he doesn't get the setup working, he's going to miss the biggest story since the Fall of Troy. Then be careful coming home — there may be cops.»
«How do I call Mackenzie?»
«Uh — » Douglas was back on screen. «Speak to Miriam.»
«Dr. Harshaw, I took your suggestion. A release much as you worded it . . . plus substantiating details.» Douglas smiled in his homespun persona. «I added that the administration will discuss interplanetary relations with the Man from Mars — as soon as he had rested from his trip — and would do so publicly …quite publicly.» His smile became chilly and he stopped looking like good old Joe Douglas.
Harshaw grinned in admiration — why, the old thief had rolled with the punch and turned a defeat into a coup for the administration. «That's perfect, Mr. Secretary! We'll back you right down the line!»
«Thank you. Now about this Caxton person — Letting the press in does not apply to him. He can watch it over stereovision and make up his lies from that. But he will not be present.»
«Then there will be no talks, Mr. Secretary, no matter what you told the press.»
«I don't believe you understand me, Counsellor. This man is offensive to me. Personal privilege.»
«You are correct, sir. It is a matter of personal privilege.»
«Then we'll say no more about it.»
«Youmisunderstand me. It is indeed personal privilege. But not yours. Smith's.»
«Eh?»
«You are privileged to select your advisers — and you can fetch the Devil himself and we shall not complain. Smith is privileged to select his advisers and have them present. If Caxton is not present, we will not be there. We will be at some quite different conference. One where you won't be welcome. Even if you speak Hindi.»
Harshaw thought clinically that a man of Douglas's age should not indulge in rage. At last Douglas spoke — to the Man from Mars.
Mike had stayed on screen, as silently and as patiently as the Witness. Douglas said, «Smith, why do you insist on this ridiculous condition?»
Harshaw said instantly, «Don't answer, Mike!» — then to Douglas: «Tut, tut, Mr. Secretary! The Canons! You may not inquire why my client has instructed me. And the Canons are violated with exceptional grievance in that my client has but lately learned English and cannot hold his own against you. If you will learn Martian, I may permit you to put the question … in his language. But not today.»
Douglas frowned. «I might inquire what Canons you have played fast and loose with — but I haven't time; I have a govemment to run. I yield. But don't expect me to shake hands with this Caxton!»
«As you wish, sir. Now back to the first point, I haven't been able to find Caxton.»
Douglas laughed. «You insisted on a privilege — one I find offensive. Bring whom you like. But round them up yourself.»
«Reasonable, sir. But would you do the Man from Mars a favor?»
«Eh? What favor?»
«Talks will not begin until Caxton is located — that is not subject to argument. But I have not been able to find him. I am merely a private citizen.»
«What do you mean?»
«I spoke disparagingly of the Special Service squadrons — check it off to the irk of a man who has had his door broken down. But I know that they can be amazingly efficient… and they have the cooperation of police forces everywhere. Mr. Secretary, if you were to call in your S.S. Commandant and tell him that you wanted to locate a man at once — well, sir, it would produce more activity in an hour than I could in a century.»
«Why on Earth should I alert police forces everywhere to find one scandal-mongering reporter?»
«Not “on Earth”, my dear sir — on Mars. I ask you this as a favor to the Man from Mars.»
«Well… it's preposterous but I'll go along.» Douglas looked at Mike. «As a favor to Smith. I expect similar cooperation when we get down to cases.»
«You have my assurance that it will ease the situation enor mously.»
«Well, I can't promise anything. You say the man is missing. He may have fallen in front of a truck, he may be dead.»